The other side of the Golden Bears

Sunday is a day of traditions don’t you think? Some people go to church, some people cook a big roast and have family around, some sit on the sofa and watch movies all day, some are comatosed from Saturday nights antics, or like a to do it all again and at their favourite little watering hole. I’ve all done all of the above, but now I’ve started a new tradition to hit the driving range bright and early, and have little game of golf for one.

To be fair, I was feeling slightly seeding after my dinner party on Saturday night (more on that one later) and when I have red wine, I generally can’t sleep well, or sleep in. Subsequently, bright eyed and somewhat bushier tale, I walked down to the end of my street; kitted up like a pro.

You see on the other side of that 47kg I brought back from OZ were a lovely, shiny new set of Jack Nicholson’s Golden Bears Golf Clubs, bought in the Melbourne Boxing Day sales. Not only a bargain, they are just right for me. They’re not pink or “ladies” or any kind of pretty colour, I’m not interested in fannying about with all that fluff, they’re men’s in fact and sleek. I’m not trying to be objectionable, it’s more because I’m so tall, and really, I just don’t do fluff or pink either. They’re a sexy metallic black; woof, I love them. The fact that I am neighbours with one of Singapore’s best golf courses, made my Sunday tradition a “walk-up-start” and easy way to get acquainted with my new friend’s.

The virgin run with these babies was when my girlfriend Leash was staying with me to mend a broken heart. We were keeping her super busy and distracted with an endless schedule of movies, gym, squash, more gym and then we opted to bring out my new set of clubs for a swing.

I found my rhythm so easily and they handled like a dream. Oh, the sound when a golf ball hits a wood, PING, ahhh, it’s amazing, and really does something for me - the sides of my mouth definitely curled. Anyway, I managed to hit some beauties that day and some absolute shockers too. But hey, it’s all good practice!

The other side of this activity was a beginner, and it wasn’t me. Leash, although enthusiastic, was a little sketchy on the “know how” of her swing. Brilliant, it gave me a chance to demonstrate the results of a season with my Golf Pro last year. I was impressed with my form and ability to break down the mechanics of the swing, as not so long ago, I was an absolute hack when I first started to play and that is being complimentary.

When I moved to Singapore my friend Stephen asked me if I was interested in taking up golf lessons with his wife Hannah. It was an offer to commit to a 12 week program, every Wednesday night, paying a reasonable fee of $478 for the privilege of working with a Scottish Golf Pro, Mark Brennan, and making a wonderful new friend in the process. Done!

Hannah arrived primed with her brand new set of ladies Pings, pink shoes, pink polo top, black shorts and gloves to match. She was looking like a contestant for the LPGA and I rocked up in some out fit that you’d more likely to where to a Sunday session rather than the posh golfing range. I’ll never forget Mark’s face when he saw me bounding along the range, beaming smile, clearly exited, ten minutes late, no clubs, and carrying a massive black handbag to compliment my outfit. He was horrified. Speechless, he diverted his eyes, and didn’t comment. To be fair, I don’t think he knew what to say to me.

The first lesson was a hoot. I borrowed Hannah’s clubs and whacked it like I’d always done, thinking I had a good swing. The lesson ended with us all committing to a time slot every Wednesday, and Mark telling me I had habits that needed to be broken and before he turned to walk away, handed me a print out of the Golf Club Rules; details of golf etiquette, suitable dress codes and language on the course. I’d possibly let out a few F bombs after swinging like a junior burger, I’ll admit.

The other side of Mark’s subtly is a loud statement. I needed to step up to the plate pronto, I was last minute Mary on this one, and it was not going to win me any medals. I got one hell of a statement on my visa; I’d clearly chosen to shop in the most expensive golf shop in Singapore. The next Wednesday I rocked up looking like Karrie Web from the LPGA championships and proud as punch, chest out as I bounded down the range, all matching, gloved up and looking the part. Ok, so I didn’t have the clubs yet, and still in company with the over sized black handbag, but I was on time, and I got the nod from Mark, tick, tick tick!

Ten weeks past and I frustrated the hell out of Mark. I was incredibly impatient, reluctant to do a practice swings in favour of 'getting into the swing of it', hitting ball after ball, and then when I did, my practice swings were too fast. Bugger, he'd get a cheeky grin and make some silly crack and I'd get the shake his head (but his eyes would smile, so I knew I was okay). When I did toed the line, I got the results and I then rewarded “the nod”.

Hannah, god love her is a schoolteacher and is well versed with discipline and the theory of “practice makes perfect”. She was so diligent, so accurate in her practice swing, so precise and slow and patient. I admired her and Mark loved her for it, the perfect model student - where’s the apple Hannah?

I was more the renegade student, loads of natural talent, but bad habits that he was going to have to work hard to break. Or I was rather. His way of complimenting me was just to give me a nod and a look from his big blue eyes under his cap. I got the feeling he thought I was too cheeky to give me positive feedback, and it would go to my head, so it was just a knowing that the nod was a good thing and enough to get me to continue practicing and getting it right. The more practice, the more nods I got. Funny that. When lessons were done, we all had a drink and Mark asked me out on a date to do an Indian Curry. He is another Silver Fox and had very nice eyes and something about him - on the driving range - off the driving range and without the cap on, maybe not. I think I told him I wasn’t ready for “Chicken Tikka with any one right now”; I knew I was serious about this game, and not finding out about the other side of the cliché.

The other side of the nod was a woman that was prepared to pay attention to get what she wanted. Like all golfers, to be consistent, hit the ball straight, and past the 200-meter mark. It was such a thrill when the ball would flirt with that sign marker out in the range, such a great feeling. But they were one off’s and not consistent enough yet for me to be ready to play.

Swing after swing, practice shot after shot. The way to success or the master of my new craft is apply Mark’s instruction and practice, practice, practice. To learn something new you have to rehearse it, study it, look at it, swing at it, time and time again. And then check yourself, be realistic about the mistakes you are making and learn how to correct them so you can improve.

The other side to practice is to have discipline; a skill that has not necessary come so naturally to me over the years. I have always had loads of vigor, great application, but yet, managed to fail in the discipline department at times. The results, simple; I haven’t been able to sustain or follow through on the dream, desire or latest craving for activity. I’ll try anything once. Once. Funny that.

I have been known to buy toys, thinking it was my latest hot interest, use it twice then forget it every existed. Like a Wave Ski I feel in love with, after being so inspired by my friend Dave who did it every morning before work. I borrowed my mate Gavin’s board, insisting to my sister-in-law Vikki, I was going down to the beach every morning before work to ride this baby and take advantage of the fact I lived a block from the Bay. Hmm, the problem was I didn’t think it through before I mouthed off about this amazing new hobby I’d adopted. From a vision of sexy Dave out there like an Iron Man, to the hard cold reality that it was a frickin heavy board, the Melbourne Bay was freezing and choppy as all get out at 6am, which meant I’d capsize every three minutes, and with no music out there and my GI Jane mission was just way too urgent, even for me. I stuck it out for four rides, some where better than others, then the toy collected dust for six months in my back yard.

I was convinced that Yoga would be a great idea to get some balance in my life so I set out and bought a DVD, some cool yoga clothes, a mat and I was ready for a home chant and exhale. Short lived, or not lived at all actually; the yoga mat was only unraveled and the plastic taken off the DVD by my friend JohJoh when she came to stay in Singapore some 6 months later….. and I still haven’t downward dogged it yet! Crickey.

The other side of Sunday driving range tradition is a newly formed interest and desire for discipline. Why? - to follow through and take my passions that one step further and really tick the boxes. I’ve always been incredibly sporty, but I believe I’ve discovered a sport that I have truly found some real pleasure in with golf. That, and I really should have a crack at this for at least another year to get a good return on my investment! These fads and excitement to touch and feel the new, whilst has been wonderful, it’s cost me an absolute bomb. What do I always say “….never put a price on experience…” Well, I’m getting older and wiser, and I’m looking at the yield now too. I believe I’ll always be curious for the adrenalin rush or an injection of some real gratification, but that’s just it, it can’t be the instant gratification any more, it’s got to be sustainable.

So today, I trotted off; Golden Bears strapped on, iPod in and got my place on the first level of the range. 100 balls, the only lady amongst a row of fine golfers and I was set. The Rolling Stones, “Start Me up” was my first song. It worked a treat, my swing was magic, it flowed naturally and I hit some beauties. I did a few Mick Jagger moves, silently of course, which the man next to me laughed at, his son watching was a fan too. Ok, I don’t think that’s in the guidelines of golf etiquette, so a little less enthusiasm is required. Although, when “Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre)” by Gotan Project came on (a Latino tango piece of music), I couldn’t help but have some fun whilst I was getting into position. Bending the knees, slightly swinging my hips from side to side, in very subtle salsa style rhythm, head down, lips pouting up and focusing on the ball, it was a like my own “movie montage”. And like all the boys in the row, I swung, PING, and finished it all off statuesque, golf club extended over my left shoulder, hips and right knee pivoted, and that little grimace look golfers do to watch where their little white number lands. Great shot Glover! No one was any the wiser, not even the little boy watching me. Golf Tango anyone?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zD9W9SZj9w&feature=PlayList&p=F9C43C254243B78B&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=43

Great tune. The sides curl with this one every time.


I’m rusty on the golf lingo and still haven’t had a full game as yet in this town, and as the world always does, I was scouting for a Tee and I made buddies with people who ran a Golf Forum who invited me to join and have a game with them. I just love how the universe creates opportunities when you are focused on what you want! What’s more, Hannah and I are going to sign up for another season of golf lessons with Mark, and there will two model students attending this season. Lots of Nods ladies, lots of nods.

If you’re ever looking for me on a Sunday morning, try me at the golf range; I’ll be working on my swing. Tango, Mick Jaggar or just the sound of PING, I’ll be focused on the game or getting ready for one.


God love the Golden Bears, thanks Jack, nice work.

Fleur
TBS


p.s
My darling brother Guy wrote to me last week, telling me he’d loved reading my blog, and encouraged me to keep going. “..go you for following through Flozzie, make it happen..." Wow, what’s next?